To Love to Hate To Hate to Love
by samuraigurl1213
Summary: Little does he know, he’ll replay this scene in his mind many times in the years to come. Their clothing however, shall be sorely lacking. UY.


The first time he had seen her, he hated her

To Love to Hate

To Hate to Love

_1662_

--

The first time he had seen her; he hated her.

The second time he saw her; he hated her.

The third time he saw her; he was madly in love.

--

She had came in late.

You weren't supposed to do that.

It was a mild annoyance for him, but she, she was much more than a simple 'mild annoyance'.

He assumed she'd be just like all the other girls. A beginner, not knowing Krav Maga from Tae Kwan Doe, not knowing a punch from a kick. Simply in this class to impress a guy. And though he hated to sound cocky, it was probably to get close to _him. _

And she was pretty, he immediately counted that against her. He had found prettiness was never an asset with girls.

He wasn't fond of changes, most especially this one.

He liked his martial arts class the way it was, just him, getting one-on-one training. And now this girl, who didn't know anything about martial arts, was going to take up all of Jim's time just to learn how to kick without falling over.

And then he'd be out a martial arts class.

When was _he _supposed to do to train? How was _he _supposed to improve now? He had been hoping to master something a little more advanced then kicking this time around.

So, it was to be expected when he had an instant dislike for the pretty Japanese girl.

And it was to be expected that he didn't bow in _respect _when they had to go off in pairs of two to spar.

But, it was not to be expected that the girl actually _knew _how to fight.

And she did.

Which, only fired his dislike of her, really.

A flip? Now that was just showing off. She could've just ducked, she didn't need to do a damn _flip._

She annoyed him.

And he was going to return the favor.

"Hm. Pretty good for a beginner."

Sure, he was being obnoxious, but he had a right. There was no way she could ever beat him.

Her eyes narrowed, and out of her nowhere, her foot came and collided with his face.

Now, that was just _not_ supposed to happen, he thought to himself as he hit the floor with a resounding _thwack._

And her jumping on top of him? Not supposed to happen.

And her making _him_ blush? No. That was _not supposed to happen. _It was _him _who made all the girls blush. It was _not _supposed to be the other way around.

But she did all of these things, and he didn't like it one bit. That this girl could just waltz in here, and do all these things that just weren't supposed to happen.

He supposed his pride was wounded, the fact that this _girl_, this _pretty _girl gave _him _a run for his money. That might explain why he didn't bow at the end of their match.

But really, it was _so_ much more than that.

And that's why, when she called him up and asked if he wanted a rematch, he knew he couldn't refuse.

Not for the sake of his pride. But for something else entirely.

Something he couldn't exactly place, but something he did not like _one _bit.

--

She was waiting for him, he mulled over the idea a little in his mind. He kind of liked it. And he hated that he kind of liked.

He liked it even more when she gave him a smile and a coy look. And yet, he _hated _that he liked it. Despised himself and every fiber of his being for liking this girl, and the little gestures she made. He shouldn't even be _noticing _these things.

"Back for another thrashing?"

She asked, a certain level of smugness and flirtatiousness in her voice.

He smiled back, he hated that he was doing this, that his body was reacting without his consent. He loathed the fact that he liked her flirtatious voice. Really, he should be hating this girl, and he did, on some level. But on a deeper level… he didn't know what he felt for her. He didn't want to know. But he knew it was something on the entire opposite end of the spectrum from hate.

He smiled, attempting to be his most suave self. _Why? _He didn't know.

What he did know- this girl had been haunting him for the last day, and it would not serve him to act like such a jerk.

"I don't like ending on a bad note."

She smiled at him, _was she flirting with him?_

"That's good, I like a challenge."

"You're going to get one."

_More importantly; was he flirting with _her?

He didn't want to say one more word in case it came out in this flirty fashion that all of his other words were.

After all, actions speak louder than words.

They got into place, and there's something a little too… _pleasant _about it to be simple sparring. He hates that. He hates her. He hates the fact that he's _smiling._ That he's liking spending time with her. That he's liking sparring with her because that means he might get another chance for her to dive on top of him. To feel the heat of her blush…

He lunges at her fast, maybe he can take her out quickly, and take out all of _this _along with it.

--

They've paused for a breath, hands on their knees. They must've been at this for the last hour. It feels like it's been so much longer… Days, weeks, months, _years_, he feels entirely too comfortable with this girl. And worse of all, he wants it to never end.

The silence stretches on. And if he doesn't say something, he's afraid he might do something. Not something he'd regret, but something he _wouldn't _regret. And that scares him more than anything else.

"Have you been training for long?"

It's a meaningless question, but it beats fighting the urge to kiss this girl into submission.

She's panting, hard, and he likes that. A little too much for his own comfort.

"Yeah, my parents think it's weird."

She says it with a smile, in-between pants. And he tries not to think of all the other things he could be doing to her to make her pant like that. And sparring is the least strenuous of them all.

"Not me. By the way, I'm Ulrich. You- you you're Yuri, right?"

He doesn't know what possesses him to say it. But he did. This act of friendship, it needs to end now. _Why is he continuing to act like this?_

She shoots him a little glare, and knocks his feet out from under him. It's underhanded, it's sneaky, and there's something so _fierce _about it that it makes him start to wonder about other things. And he likes it. He likes it a lot.

She walks up to him, with a certain gleam her eye as she announces;

"It's Yumi."

He likes that much better than Yuri.

Actually, he likes that gleam in her eye. And he's already scheming of ways to get to see it again.

--

She's ready for him, she's dodging.

And in hardly any time at all, it's he who's on the offense and her on the defense. And within the blink of an eye, it all changes. Again.

Whose offense, whose defense, whose winning, whose losing, whose kicking, whose ducking, it's all blended into one movement. One fierce dance. He can no longer decipher any of it, and he _likes _it that way. It's killing him.

He wants it to end.

He wants it to never end.

She lets out a battle cry as she blocks his kick. Holding onto his foot, and pushing him away. He likes this… this intensity, the fire she gets within her eyes. And he hates that he notices this. He hates that he is aware of every move of their bodies. He _hates _it.

But he was never one for losing. He takes her by the shoulders, uses her weight to propel the motion and they roll in a fierce tumble of limbs.

He lands on top of her, hot and sweaty.

And then, damn her, she makes him blush again. He's not supposed to be blushing at the closeness, but he does anyway.

He stays there for a moment, enjoying it all. Her, sweaty and beneath him, him on top. And there's something that feels so right about all of this. Staring into her eyes. And he sees that gleam again.

And if this was any other girl…

But it's not.

He rolls off of her sweaty form, panting from the effort of it all.

Little does he know, he'll replay this scene in his mind many times in the years to come. Their clothing however, shall be sorely lacking.

He thinks that's where it might have happened, the falling madly in love part.

But he's not really sure when _that _part of their relationship came into play.

He likes to blame it on the sparring, but he knows it's much more than that.

He also knows that the sparring was part of it. The way her eyes lit up, the way she moves, the way the swear mats her hair. It's all part of it.

"Call it a tie?"

Her voice shocks him out of his thoughts, and he stands up abruptly. He immediately feels ashamed, this feels like so much more than just a simple sparring session. It feels so much _dirtier._

"Okay, anyway, I've got to go my friends are going to start wondering where I am. Same for you."

He hates how awkward he feels.

He hates how awkward she doesn't feel.

She stands up;

"I don't have any friends."

She says it so honestly, he thinks _this_ might be the part where he fell in love.

He's not sure, in all honesty, when he fell in love, if it happened that day, that very moment, or another time. He's only sure that now, he loves her.

And he hates it.

And he loves it.

But most of all, he loves _her._


End file.
